From the Shadows
by Hostiel
Summary: Many prophecies had been spoken about the six year-old Harry Potter, but one fact was common in every foretold future: the boy would be great. Ra's al Ghul knew this, but he also knew that under his mentorship, the boy could grow to be the greatest. He would train him in the ways of mortal and magic alike, and the world wouldn't know what hit them until it was already too late.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The man strode forward, his footsteps silent upon the pavement under his feet. His movements were graceful and elegant, those of a dancer – or a fighter. If any of the residents of Privet Drive had happened to still be awake at this hour of the night and had decided to look out the window, they probably would have thought him strange for a variety of reasons.

Perhaps it might have been the fact that he appeared to be foreign in a neighbourhood that was undeniably British. Maybe if they had been more perceptive it might have been the way he walked, appearing relaxed, yet with every muscle was coiled as though he was prepared to go into combat at any time. It could have been the way his green eyes glowed slightly, the only sign of the unnatural power that dwelled within him.

In all likelihood, the first thing to make them mark him as odd and maybe cause them to call the police would be the scimitar sheathed upon his left hip, an ornate golden hilt peaking from the top of a black scabbard.

But no, the man knew that none were awake, else he would be concealed in the shadows with the rest of the people that were with him. A rustle too loud to be any animal that lived in a suburban environment sounded from a bush a few metres away, and he silently noted to ensure that the source of the noise was punished later. The League of Shadows would not tolerate such clumsiness under his rule, but much more important matters were currently at hand and he couldn't afford to be distracted for even a moment.

He had dealt with wizardkind in the past and was aware that being caught off-guard could result in the fall of even the greatest man. That was why he himself was the one walking out in the open, drawing in any ambush. Being caught off-guard was not something he had done since his infancy.

The hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood as a slight tingle ran over his skin. Whilst he himself was not magic, an excess of seven centuries walking this Earth and the repeated touch of the Lazarus Pit had left him able to detect certain supernatural forces – in this case, wards.

This situation was quite urgent, though he was not one to act rashly. Over the past few days, he had ordered the League to merely observe the area. From what they had seen, these wards were most likely only able to act against wizards. Even those who had bore ill-intentions against their target had remained unharmed. It was because of this that he continued walking, stepping across the protections without even the slightest hesitance.

As predicted, he remained intact. Face blank as ever, he turned and began down the path of a house. It was almost indistinguishable to the others of Privet Drive, with its perfectly-manicured garden and identical architecture, though he knew it was where his target resided. He did not make mistakes.

An alarm sat high upon the wall, but it would not stand a chance against someone of his skills. Even if it _did_ manage to detect him – a nigh-on impossible task, but the League covered every possibility – it had long since been seen to that the alert wouldn't reach the police.

He dropped to one knee, slightly dirtying his otherwise impeccable armour. Lockpicking tools were suddenly in his hand, seemingly taken from mid-air. The doors locks were taken care of with great ease, and there did not appear to be any traps. He entered silently, listening for anything within the house.

The only sound proved to be the ticking of a clock, and he moved onwards.

His search of the ground floor proved fruitless, and he made his way towards the stairs. Suddenly, he paused. The cupboard under the stairs was locked from the outside. The League's observations had shown that the target's guardians didn't care for him, but this? His green eyes narrowed, and he moved forward, silently unlatching the door and pulling it open.

Curled up inside, laying upon a small and stained mattress, was the target. A cold rage settled upon his mind for what must have been the first time in decades. He had seen worse than this done a thousand times before. He had _done_ worse than this a thousand times before, but this was different. The boy was a mere child now, but his destiny was great.

The man had learnt of many prophecies spoken about the boy, each telling of different futures. What was certain was that the child would slay dark lords, and could purge the wizarding world of evil. But the man knew that he had the potential to do so much more. He could cure not only the _world of magic_ , but the whole world. If the man had his way, Harry Potter would be his successor. He would be the next Head of the Demon, and the League of Shadows would prosper and grow under his rule.

With gentleness one would not associate with the leader of the League of Shadows, the man lifted the boy in his arms, prompting him to stir.

"Hello, child," he murmured. "I am Ra's al Ghul."

To his great confusion, Harry awoke to find himself being carried – something he had no living memory of ever happening to him. That puzzlement was not lessened any as he came to realise he was not in the arms of Petunia or Vernon, but rather a man that he didn't recognize. His first thought was that this man might be his father, coming to rescue him. This was provoked by the man's black hair, green eyes and the fact he appeared to be in his early forties, easily old enough to have a child.

There was also the fact that the man appeared to be foreign, his features slightly reminding Harry of one of those "bloody Arabs" that Vernon was always ranting about. Perhaps that was why they said his parent were freaks? Petunia and Vernon were always going on about how different Harry's parents were, and Vernon was always going on about how different foreigners were.

That hopeful thought was cast away as the man spoke, saying, "Hello, child. I am Ra's al Ghul."

Whilst Harry was only six, he was intelligent enough to know that his fathers name had certainly not been whatever the man had just said. A sudden fear came over him as he remembered school's "stranger danger" lessons. This fear was only heightened as he realized the man was wearing armour, carrying a sword, and had probably just broken into the house.

Not knowing what else to do, Harry let out a scream, rapidly cut off as Ra's clapped a hand over his mouth.

Ra's sighed, what had he really been expecting from a child? From the moving about upstairs, he concluded that someone had been awoken. Briefly, he contemplated killing the people who had dared treat Harry like this, but he rapidly decided against it. It would serve no real purpose and ran the risk of alerting whoever held the wards that something was afoot.

Turning to the shadows in the corner of the room, he shook his head at them, ordering his almost-invisible warriors to stand down before looking back to the boy attempting to struggle out of his grasp.

"Harry," he chided softly. "Do not fear. I come not to harm, but to rescue you. I can teach you – make it so no one can ever harm you again. You are special, and that is not a bad thing. I am not a wizard like you, but I can train you to be the greatest man to ever walk this Earth. I can make you my son, my heir. I can give you power. I can give you _immortality."_

This part might be essential. While the wards had not reacted to non-magicals previously, that might change if he attempted to remove the boy without his consent.

Emotions ran through Harry, turbulent and forceful. Something bubbled up within his gut, but it moved back down as he calmed slightly. Was this man telling the truth? Was he a wizard? That might explain some of the unusual things that tended to occur around him. This man, Ra's, said that he could be a father to him – a father who could supposedly make him the greatest person ever as well as giving him immortality. It seemed like a lie, but when Harry looked upon the man's face he saw nothing but sincerity.

Perhaps going with him wouldn't be the wisest choice, but what could be worse than living with the _Dursleys?_ The ones who were so cruel to him and belittled him day after day. Besides, the man could have just taken him if he wanted to. Harry wasn't even as strong as _Dudley_ , let alone a fully grown man who was fitter than any other he had ever seen.

If this man was telling the truth, Dudley and his friends would never be able to hurt him again. One day he would be so strong that _no one_ would ever be able to hurt him again. Harry bit his lip. Was it worth the risk? Eventually he decided that yes, it was.

He nodded timidly and opened his mouth to speak, but Ra's interrupted him. "We must go, it would not do for us to have to harm the Dursleys," he said, casting his gaze back upon the stairs.

 _But I want to hurt them_ , Harry wanted to protest, but remained silent as Ra's shushed him. Ra's turned towards the door and Harry blinked as three previously unsee people in ninja outfits peeled from the darkness of the room's corners. One walked behind them, whilst one walked on either side.

Harry cast one last look at the interior of number four Privet Drive before the door was clicked close dbehind them and Ra's took off at a jog, leading a rhombus formation as he moved towards the perimeter of the wards. Precisely as he reached it, a black van smoothly pulled out in front of them, seemingly appearing from nowhere and slowing to a roll with its back doors open, its engine almost silent. It didn't even need to stop moving before Ra's had loaded Harry in and climbed in after him, the ninjas leaping in as it began to speed up again.

And then the doors were closed and the League of Shadows were heading towards a private airport from which they would travel to their headquarters, safe in the knowledge that no occupant of Privet Drive would ever know of their operation.

"So," Harry asked, finally finding his voice as he looked arround. "Who are you?"

As had happened for the rest of the journey, the ninjas remained in a silence that made Harry slightly uncomfortable, Ra's being the only one to answer.

"As I told you, I am Ra's al Ghul, which means the Demon's Head in Arabic," he began, then paused, contemplating how much to reveal to the child, a potential security risk at such a young age. "I am the leader of a group of warriors known by many names, the primary one being the League of Shadows."

Harry frowned, wondering if they were like MI6. "I've never heard of you, are you like secret spies or something?"

Ra's chuckled. "As your name implies, yes, we do tend to operate in secret, any act we do being credited to something else. Spies, however, we are usually not. Whilst we do have our agents operating undercover all over the world, we are primarily assassins."

"You kill people?" asked Harry, his eyes widening as he decided that maybe this hadn't been too smart after all.

"Yes, child, but primarily the" – he resisted the urge to frown – " _baddies."_

Harry blinked. "Like criminals? Don't they have to go to jail?"

"What, so they can escape again?" Ra's asked, raising an eyebrow. "Whilst that is the law, many manage to escape justice time after time. Even if they are imprisoned, this does not cure them. Sometimes, if you wish to solve corruption and act for the greater good, the only way to is to replace evil with death, even if the sacrifices of good people must be made to do that – this is what the League does."

"But why have you come for me?" Harry asked, still slightly confused as to why the man had chosen a six year old to become an assassin.

Ra's smirked. "Because, child, I was not lying. From the prophecies I have heard, you can become even greater than I. Your potential is not limited by any mundane means. Magic flows through your veins, and combined with my teaching, when I pass on, you shall inherit my title, my _name._ And then you shall be Ra's al Ghul, and all evil will cower before you."

 **A/N: I have not yet decided which, if any, superheroes or supervillains will be in this. All that is cetain is the League as well as characters from Harry Potter. Anyway, thanks for reading, tell me what you thought.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Whilst I am not magic myself, the amount of time I have spent on this Earth has given me a more intricate understanding of it than the majority of wizards alive," spoke Ra's, standing opposite Harry. "Wands run upon your will, your desire to cast a spell, amplifying it to make it easier. When not using a focus, magic comes from raw emotion. If one seeks to not use a wand, they must learn to control and use their emotions."

Harry pushed forward with all his will, but the pebble did not even budge. Eventually he pulled back, gasping for breath. "I can't do it."

Ra's sighed. "It is because you are attempting to use only willpower as opposed to your emotions, as though you are using a wand. You are putting too much thought into this. Magic is a part of nature, and so are emotions. Magic is not logical, so you must separate yourself from logic. Channel your emotion, willpower, and nothing else."

For a moment, Harry looked inside himself and caught a glimpse of glowing golden light, but then it was gone and he was once again slumped upon the floor.

"Very well," said Ra's, slight disappointment leaking into in his voice. "We will move onto your physical training."

He moved over to the rack on the wall and picked up two staffs, one much shorter than the other. He threw the short one towards Harry, and the boy only just managed to catch it, fumbling to stop it dropping to the floor.

As he looked up, he found Ra's' staff an inch from his temple. "Never take your eyes off of your opponent," the man said. Apparently Harry's training had already began...

Ra's withdrew, and then moved forward again, moving far slower than he was able to in order to give Harry a chance to stop the staff swiping towards his side. Still, Harry only just managed to block it, the impact jarring his arm. "You must learn to dodge," Ra's said. "Do not always block. You are young and weak, your opponents will always be stronger."

Harry frowned, he wasn't that weak. He swung his staff towards Ra's but it was nowhere near fast enough and he found his feet swept from under him as he thumped to the floor. Immediately he was getting back to his feet, and Ra's nodded in approval. "Good, but remember that in a real fight fleeing is better than death."

He moved forward and used the staff to put Harry's arm in a lock before spinning him to the ground. "Did you flee when the Dursleys hurt you Harry? Did you run from Dudley and his friends?" he asked rhetorically. "Yes, but it did you no good. If you know you cannot escape, you must fight, even if your opponent is far stronger than you. You cannot escape from me here, Harry," he said as he jabbed the boy in the ribs.

Ra's sighed as he easily deflected Harry's next swing. "I believe I have miscalculated in my plan of teaching. You are not strong or fast enough yet. We shall continue after we have improved those elements." And with that statement, he turned and walked to place his staff back in its place.

Anger grew within Harry. Ra's had lied. He had said he would make it so no one could beat him, yet he had done nothing to help! He would show him that he wasn't weak! Harry was pushed over the edge as Ra's glanced at him over his shoulder, his eyes full of disappointment.

Something stirred within him, a coiled serpent awakening and beginning to writhe in his gut. With a scream, he unleashed it into reality. The air shimmered, and suddenly Ra's was blasted forward. Harry managed to see his adoptive father flip off the wall and land in a crouch before a wave of fatigue crashed into him and he was driven to his knees.

 _Oh no,_ Harry thought. Ra's was probably going to kill him now. The man had offered to help him, and now Harry had done something that had possessed the potential to seriously injure him. A small smile came broke upon his face. At least he had managed to do magic once before his demise. He had proved that he wasn't weak.

The blackness threatening to consume him was pushed away as a hand gripped his chin and forced him to look upwards. To his confusion, Ra's was smiling down at him. "Harry," he said, none of the expected anger in his tone. Harry supposed that Ra's was not the type of man to lose his temper like Vernon did; he was an assassin, and his pleasant smile would never fall from his face as he drove a knife through his gut. The next words came as a surprise. "That was impressive. Do you remember how it felt? How _you_ felt? _That_ is the feeling of magic, Harry. Combine willpower with your emotion, and your magic shall answer."

Harry found himself too tired to answer, and could only gasp for breath.

Ra's smiled proudly. "In time, your control of magic shall improve, but for now you must rest, my son."

Before collapsing into the arms of his new father, Harry had time to give a weak smile.

"Patience, Harry," said Ra's, sitting cross-legged opposite the boy who was mimicking his position but for the occasional fidgeting. "When I first taught you how to do wandless magic, I told you that you had to use and control your emotions. You know how to use them, but you must obtain control over them if you wish to gain true mastery."

Focusing on his father's words, Harry gathered his anger within him like he had so many times before. Magic, wild and untamed boiled with in his gut, as usual accompanied by the burning rage required to summon it. A fury directed towards the Dursleys' treatment of him. An anger, that no matter how hard he tried, he could not banish.

The pebble, the object he had been trying to lift, shattered in an imitation of what had happened every single other time he had attempted to do this.

A growl of frustration escaped Harry's mouth. It had been two years since he had first left the Dursleys, and in that time he had learned in the ways of the League as well as furthering his arcane abilities. Anger and other emotions were currently the only ways he could summon up his magic, and even if knew how to easily control these normally – a result of the League's training – it was nigh-on impossible for him to do it with magical energies flowing through his body.

For years he had learnt to let his intelligence guide him with combat, yet to let his emotions lead him with magic. Detaching from his emotions when using magic in order to let his intelligence guide him proved a lot harder than he thought.

With his current emotion-fuelled magic, he could release blasts that could down a dozen men, he could enhance his speed and strength, he could release torrents of raging fire that burned hot enough to melt metal, but when it came to anything delicate, he fell short. If Ra's did not have faith that he would be able to do it, he would have given up long ago.

Still, giving up seemed like a good option at the moment. "Can't I just use a wand?" he whined, uncharacteristically childish.

"We have been through this before, Harry," chided Ra's, and it was true. This was perhaps the a hundredth time they had discussed this issue. "A wand is a weakness. Learning to use a wand before learning to thoroughly control your magic is akin to learning to use a sword before knowing how to fight with your own body."

"And why is that so bad?" Harry demanded, though he already knew what answer would come.

"When you grow reliant on your weapon, what will you do when you are disarmed? What will you do when you find yourself unprepared for combat? A bullet moves at hundreds of miles per hour; even the fastest to draw their wand or sword can be killed in that time. This problem is even greater for wizards, seeing as an incantation and wand movements are needed. You can, of course, train to free yourself of these, but even that will be far easier if you learn to separate yourself from your emotion and focus your willpower."

Harry sighed. He knew Ra's was right, but that didn't make it any easier for him to actually _do_ it. He had learnt that Ra's was over 700 years old as a result of something called the Lazarus Pit, and if old people were meant to be wise, Ra's was _really_ wise. As far as he was concerned, this meant that Ra's was never wrong.

With a sigh, Harry settled back down into a meditative position in order to try again, seeing that Ra's had already replaced the pebble. The sensation of magic rose up within him, bringing with it the anger that always came. Wrestling for control, Harry allowed the anger to disperse but kept his grip upon the energy tight.

The pebble began to slowly rise into the air, but then a barrier broke within Harry and fury flooded back into him. Once again, the pebble exploded.

Ra's got to his feet. "I see that this cannot work until your anger is resolved." He paused. "I was not sure about this previously, but now I am certain it is the only way," he said, gazing at Harry. "Come, my son, today you will cut your connections with your past life. Today, you will take a step towards becoming Ra's al Ghul. Today, you will replace evil with death. Today, you shall kill the Dursleys."

 **A/N: Hope you enjoyed, tell me what you thought. All feedback and questions are welcome!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

A few hours later, Harry was on a plane, ready to be in England for the first time in only two years. So much had changed since then. He had left a weak child, and now returned a competent combatant, trained in stealth, fighting, weaponry, magic…and assassination. As he remembered _why_ he was returning, he swallowed. He was to kill the Dursleys, his only living relatives. The ones who he hated so much. He knew that he desired to _hurt_ them, but to kill them? He wasn't sure.

Ever since he had joined the League of Shadows, he had known this day would come. But knowing he would have to do it at some time didn't change the fact that he would have to actually _kill_ someone.

 _They were evil,_ Harry assured himself. What kind of people would treat a _child_ like that simply because of a grudge against their parents? Did they deserve to die for that, though? Maybe not, but if this was the only way for Harry to be rid of his anger, it was a necessary sacrifice. Being able to use wandless magic efficiently would make him much stronger, meaning that he could go on to save countless more lives than he would if he didn't do this.

No matter how much he came up with reasons for why this was the right thing to do, trickles of doubt still settled upon his mind. Finally he decided that it was worth it, even if only to stop himself from disappointing his adoptive father. He owed an awful lot to the man, and he most certainly didn't want to let him down.

With a sigh, Harry decided to sleep. It would be best to be well-rested, even if this was not a great test of his abilities.

He awoke as the plane landed and promptly exited, only having to move a few metres to get to the black SUVs waiting for them. It was really quite amazing how much governmental corruption could get you. They had arrived at a private airport that would leave no report of their arrival or departure. Stealth technology rendered them invisible to radar, so no one but the League would ever know they had been here.

Disregarding those thoughts, Harry thought about his mission. Ra's had told him that there wards around the property, and whilst the wards had been set to protect him, it would probably be safer not to use magic. He had been told that he was something of a messiah to the wizarding world as a result of the fact he had managed to kill Dark Lord Voldemort. Speaking of that, neither Ra's or Harry were sure why that had happened, but assumed it was something to do with one of the various prophecies associated with Harry.

Anyway, magic in the former residence of the "Boy-Who-Lived" would draw undue attention from people trying to "save" him and former followers of Voldemort alike. If the wards _did_ happen to detect their operation – an unlikely situation – Harry was to extract immediately and not take the risk of engaging any wizards.

As they arrived at Privet Drive under the cover of night, Harry opened the car door and dropped out, immediately dashing across the nearest lawn and up the side of a house, crouching atop the roof as he observed his surroundings. He had intentionally gotten out quite a bit away from the house, giving himself the opportunity to look for any guards.

No lights were on in the whole of the street, and the League had seen to it that the lampposts were disabled, but that didn't mean there weren't wizards using spells to see through the darkness. But no, Harry looked for the tell-tale shimmer of an invisibility cloak or any trace of human movement, but there was nothing.

Satisfied of his relative safety, he moved onwards, bounding from roof to roof with only the lightest of footfalls, barely making a sound. As he moved along the rooftop of the house next to number four, where the Dursleys resided, he felt a very slight tingle on his senses. That must have been the wards.

Harry paused, listening for any new arrivals triggered by his crossing of the wards. Once again, there was no one. He leapt to the roof of his target destination before slipping down to the ledge below and looking through the window. Petunia and Vernon's room. Both were sleeping. Perfect.

He moved around the house and ensured Dudley was also asleep before dropping to the ground floor and going to work upon the back door's lock. It was no match for him and he slipped inside, his breathing beginning to quicken as his levels of excitement and fear rose.

Without the slightest sound he sneaked up the stairs, pausing as he arrived at the top. Killing Dudley first would be better, seeing as an alone person gave much less risk of being comprimised, but could he bring himself to kill a child? He reminded himself of the fact that he was younger than said child, and that Dudley had bullied him.

No, he decided. Dudley posed no threat anyway, even if he was awoken. He was not fast enough to escape, so he would die last. Harry recalled the master bedroom door tended to creak, but it was luckily open just enough for him to slip through. He held back a sneer. That was doubtlessly in case their precious "Dudders" had a nightmare.

As he looked over the sleeping forms of his aunt and uncle, he let his training take over. Any emotion slipped from his face as he became a visage of calm, cool efficiency. Harry might have simply caused a gas leak and left the stove on, but Ra's had advised him that one day he would have to kill someone up close, and that it might be best if he did it now.

Harry reached into his pocket, and pulled out a syringe, unsheathing the needle. Vernon would be first, he decided. Using his free hand, Harry jammed his thumb into the pressure point behind his uncle's ear, ensuring that he would not awake during the procedure. As predicted, the man remained asleep as the needle entered his heart, injecting its deadly payload into his bloodstream. Nothing appeared to change in the man but for the fact he stopped snoring, but Harry knew he was dead.

He allowed no emotion to enter him; that could come later, but for now he had to focus. Face still devoid of any feeling, he repeated the process upon Petunia, not showing any hesitation as he killed his own blood.

He slipped out of the room and into Dudley's, administering a dose the same size as he had for the others, just be safe. As life left Dudley, and Harry severed all connection from his past life, slaying all of his remaining blood relatives, magic washed over his skin and a breeze moved through the sealed room.

Harry's eyes widened, the wards had just broke. If someone was surveying them, they would be here soon. He darted back down the stairs, soundlessly escaping through the back door as the night's silence was shattered by a tremendous _crack._

 _Crack._

Albus Dumbledore arrived on Privet Drive dressed in his pyjamas, which seeing as his usual choice of dress were brightly-coloured and horrifically-decorated robes, was quite an improvement if he was seeking to appear normal. His expression, however, was not something one would expect to see upon a man famous for his obnoxious joviality. It was one of pure terror.

He had been awoken by the blaring of one his silver devices. It had taken him only a moment for him to be out of bed and apparating to Privet Drive when he noticed it was the one tied to the wards of Harry Potter's residence. Or Harry Potter's _former_ residence he should say. It had now been over two years since the day he noticed that the wards had begun to deteriorate and had went to see what had occurred.

A horror akin to the one he felt this day had dawned upon him when he had realised that Harry was gone from number four Privet Drive, having fled from his _cupboard_ during the night. He had known that Petunia had bore a grudge against Lily, but hadn't even _conceived_ the notion that she would be so cruel as to carry that grudge against Harry as well and make him sleep in a cupboard.

That day he had felt a rage like none he had felt since Voldemort had still walked the Earth, but at least from the fact the wards had still been intact he had been safe in the knowledge that Harry Potter was still alive, even if he _had_ been forced to run away by his treatment at the hands of his relatives.

Today, there was no rage, only fear, for the falling of the wards meant that either Harry or his blood relatives were dead. As morbid as it might be, he hoped for the latter. If Voldemort was to be killed permanently, Harry was the only hope. As benevolent as he might appear, Albus was more than willing to sacrifice the lives of three abusive muggles to save the wizarding world.

So he strode forward, hoping for the life of him that the Dursleys had been the one to die.

As much as he might prefer for the Dursleys to be the ones to have perished rather than Harry, he still did not condone killing, and anger brewed within him at the thought of one person killing another. Luckily, Dumbledore had lived centuries, allowing him to control his temper very well, meaning he normally would have calmly unlocked the door. Unfortunately for said door, he was in a hurry and it found itself blown straight of its hinges.

Any attempts of stealth forgotten, Dumbledore bellowed, _"Homenum Revelio!"_

He had to stop himself from releasing a sigh of combined relief and annoyance. The lack of people detected by the human revealing spell meant two things: that the Dursleys were most likely dead (Dumbledore didn't even want to contemplate the possibility that the Dursleys were out and Harry was dead) and that the attacker was most likely gone.

Up the stairs he went, cautious in case that someone had managed to ward himself from his spell. Two open doors immediately greeted him, and he decided to go left. A gentle banishing spell brought the door to a full open, and Dumbledore grimaced as he saw the two people laying on the bed, one a morbidly obese man and the other a petite yet unattractive woman. From the fact that his spell hadn't detected them, they were clearly dead.

Fully opening the other door provided him with the knowledge that Dudley Dursley was as dead as his parents. Dumbledore turned away, not being able to stop himself from seeing one of his students in the boy's position.

A muttered magic-revealing spell revealed that magic had not been cast recently, and Dumbledore frowned. These people had been killed only moments before he arrived yet not by magic. He would have guessed it was the Killing Curse by the way that there were no visible wounds. Perhaps he should have expected that from the fact the wards had not been triggered.

Dumbledore frowned again. He would have to leave this for the muggle authorities to investigate; his knowledge of mortal killings was extremely limited.

Harry darted across the lawn and vaulted the back fence. He estimated that the noise had emitted from in front of the house, and from what Ra's had told him, that could only be the distinctive sound of a wizard apparating. What Ra's had also told him was that Albus Dumbledore, one of the most powerful wizards in the world, had been the one overlooking his placement at the Dursleys and would most likely be the one monitoring the wards.

Dumbledore was most certainly not a man Harry wanted to meet in the current situation, and luckily the League had planned a different extraction in the event of a wizard arriving.

As Harry moved towards where Ra's would meet him, flitting from shadow to shadow, unidentifiable emotions flooded him. He had killed someone. He had killed three _someones,_ two of which who happened to be his only remaining relatives.

Tears threatened to flow from his eyes, but he rapidly banished them. He had done more than killing. He had replaced evil with death as he had been taught to do, for that was what the Dursleys had been: evil. He had separated himself from his past and his anger. He would keep the name Harry until he was fully initiated into the League, but his identity was now new.

 **A/N: Sorry for the delay, I was focusing on other stories.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Harry ducked under the katana's swing, surging forward and delivering a magic-fuelled punch into his opponent's gut before instantly spinning around, pulling out his modified-scimitar as he did so to block the coming attack. Whilst he could enhance his strength so that he could wield a fully-sized sword, a miniature one like the one he was using was considerably easier to use, him being a ten year old.

He parried the next blow with ease, twisting his blade so that the man was forced to move his sword towards his comrade or be disarmed. The said comrade leaped backwards, narrowly avoiding being cleaved in two only to be struck by a blast of concussive force as Harry thrust his free hand at him.

Harry's other foe attempted to take advantage of his momentary distracting, but found himself yanked upwards by a tendril of magic wrapping around his ankle. Allowing that man to fall to the floor, Harry turned and deflected a blow, spinning the final man so that he tripped over his ally and landed atop him. They both made to scramble up to their feet but promptly stopped as they found a blade aligned with each of their throats.

From the other side of the room, a slow clapping began. Harry turned and bowed deeply, his movement mimicked by his fallen foes. The man at the doorway motioned with his head and Harry rose, walking up alongside him as the man began to leave.

"Well done," spoke Ra's. "Taking on four of my men at your age is no small feat, though there is still much room for improvement."

Harry nodded, content with the praise that might have once offended him. By now he knew that Ra's would never be fully satisfied with his ability until he could best him himself in combat. He had the feeling that it would be at least half a century until that happened. Magic should have given him a huge advantage over him, but Ra's moved too fast for much to be effective. Harry shuddered to think of what it would take to defeat him in a fair fight _without_ using magic.

Still, Harry himself was by this point a foe most wouldn't want to face. He had no doubt that with the element of surprise he could kill almost anyone in the world, even at his young age. Five years of nothing but training had paid off, and he was more well-versed in stealth, martial arts, sword-fighting and knife-fighting than all but the very top people in the world, most of whom were actually in the League of Shadows.

And that was to not even mention magic. Whilst his lack of using a wand gave him a disadvantage where it came to variety and possibly power, it also made him a lot faster. At a short range with the right amount of concentration, he could send a needle-thin burst of magic forward that had just enough force to go through someone's skull, killing them in a moment. It left him rather drained, but it was an example of one of the range of techniques he could employ to end a fight before it had even begun. Another favourite of his was propelling a pebble through their head at bullet like velocities, and though that was slightly easier to counter, it was not likely that many wizards would be able to draw their wand and yell an incantation before they were killed.

He knew that at this age he was certainly not a magical powerhouse and that his most vital weapon in any fight would be the element of surprise. After all, no wizard could yell an incantation with a throwing knife protruding from their throat. Most also weren't able to keep standing with a sword through their spine, or keep living for long with the most deadly poison of the League of Shadows coursing through their veins.

From he had learnt from Ra's he should have been starting Hogwarts, a magical school, this year at the beginning of September, but needless to say, he wouldn't be going. The school's curriculum was focused upon wands and was rather heavy with magical theory for the first few years. The former was pointless seeing as he didn't use a wand, and the latter could be taught better to him by Ra's or a tutor hired by the League's rather expansive resources, and he certainly didn't want to waste time around children who were doubtlessly far less immature than him. The closest thing to socializing with someone his age he had done in the past five years was killing Dudley.

He did of course, have to learn to fit in – it was equally important for an assassin to be able to blend with a crowd as it was for them to be able to blend with the shadows – but gaining experience at that would be far easier in the non-magical world where he would not have to be the Boy-Who-Lived.

No. Hogwarts would most certainly not have Harry Potter in its attendance. Even if its register that tracked down new students attempted to find him, the unnatural magic of the Lazarus Pit and the League's concealment methods would stop him from being discovered.

Dumbledore sighed. Every letter to alert students of their accepted attendance at Hogwarts had been sent. All but one. Well, it had been _sent,_ the owl just had been completely unable to find its recipient. Whilst Dumbledore hadn't had a way to track Harry, he had been safe in the knowledge that the powerful charms integrated into the Hogwarts Register would find him. Unfortunately, this had just been proven false.

Harry not being able to be found could mean two different things, and whilst one was undoubtedly preferable to the other, neither were good for Dumbledore. The first possibility, the one that he didn't even want to contemplate, was that Harry Potter might be dead. The other possibility was that Harry was hidden behind wards. Whose? Albus had no idea, but he hoped that it wasn't one of the followers of Lord Voldemort or some other dark wizard. That would undeniably be bad, whether he was a prisoner or being melded to their cause.

He moved over to his liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of firewhisky, pouring himself a glass and downing a gulp. He had failed James, Lily, _and_ Harry. Now all he could do was wait and hope that his actions would not cause the fall of the wizarding world.

Until the very moment that all the first-years had been sorted, Dumbledore didn't allow himself to lose hope that Harry might be here. It might have merely be a coincidence that no one had seen him on the train. Dumbledore himself might have accidentally looked over the boy in the gaggle of nervous first-years. After all, he hadn't seen him since he was a baby.

But no. Deep within himself, Dumbledore had already known that Harry wouldn't be coming, but now that was confirmed. He withheld another sigh. Minerva was the only one he had confessed his mistake to, and he would no doubt be forced to explain to the rest of the staff tonight that Harry Potter wouldn't be coming to Hogwarts. Tomorrow would probably be even worse, by that time the Daily Prophet would undoubtedly be made aware of his predicament and would most likely blow things out of proportion.

Once again, Dumbledore sighed. Overnight he was likely to become the wizarding world's scapegoat, and he didn't even know whether or not Harry was alive.

Thousands of miles away from Hogwarts, Harry was on his first mission if you didn't count the murder of the Dursleys. Whilst Ra's was not the type to give birthday presents, with Harry's turning of eleven it had been decided he was ready for his first operation.

Three League members were accompanying him, one being Ra's' daughter herself, Talia al Ghul. She handled a large percentage of the business and financial sides of the League, both legitimate and illegitimate, meaning that Harry had never actually met her before, though since she was in the Tibet Headquarters – where Harry had been – Ra's had decided to have her escort him since he himself couldn't come. He did not want his heir to die as a result of an unseen complication, however much faith he had in Harry.

Harry's mission was really quite an easy one: to take out a contact of the League of Shadows who seemed to be showing signs of possible defection. The League did not allow its secrets to be spread, so this contact would die by Harry's hand before he had the chance to do anything.

Wanting to send Harry on a mission had not been Ra's' only reasoning on choosing him, however. The contact was believed to have made contact with a group of magical mercenaries and was selling information in exchange for their protection. Whilst Ra's thought that it would be a good experience for Harry, that was one of the primary reasons he had sent Talia, one of the league's greatest fighters as a result of her two century long life. It would not be good if they or Harry had underestimated the group's prowess and it resulted in a failure.

Harry's target was an Egyptian government official who he would attack in his home, a rather large house that was quite isolated and bordered upon being a mission. It had been organized that he would go in alone, but the others would wait close by, ready to strike whenever need be.

They arrived at the Egyptian airport exactly on schedule, and night had long since fell as they arrived at the destination from which they would depart their car. With a final nod to Talia, who Harry supposed was technically his adopted sister, and the other two ninjas, Harry began to move towards the target location, knowing the other three would be taking a different route.

He darted across the desert, taking cover behind a rock just outside of the range of the lights mounted atop the wall. A security camera was facing his way and he would need to deal with it, Harry noted. Luckily, he had magic. Now having used his wandless magic for five years, there was almost no effort involved, no banishing of emotion needed. He had long since only needed to concentrate to will arcane energies into existence.

With only a slight strain, he poured magic into his sharp, emerald green eyes, ensuring that he was focused on the security camera. A mistake now could mean detection, and that would make his whole mission a whole lot harder. Clamping down upon the camera with his mind, he nudged it to the side and held it there, giving himself a small blindspot to operate in.

Instantly he vaulted from his cover and began to sprint at the wall, easily scaling it and letting his magic slip from the camera as he did so. He was in. A bush was next to him, and he moved into it, destroying any risk of him being caught as he surveyed his surroundings. Whilst it was _possible_ to make himself invisible, the photokinetic method required a lot of energy, and though Ra's knew how to _defend_ himself from the telepathic method, he had no idea how one would actually do it.

Harry observed the scene before him. Though the house was modern, there didn't appear to be any CCTV cameras on the inside of the walls – probably so no magic was recorded – and if he scaled one of the pillars in front of him he could get onto a balcony from, which point entry into the house would be easy. By the front gate, however, stood a man with a handgun on his hip and a stick of wood in his pocket. Harry's eyes narrowed. A wizard.

A glance at the front door revealed another similarly armed man.

Taking advantage of the moment they both weren't looking anywhere near him, Harry darted forward leaping onto the wall and rapidly getting up onto the balcony – and then he froze. Less than three metres from him, facing the other way, stood a wizard.

As he had been trained, and he had done with the Dursleys all those years ago, Harry separated himself from his emotions. He would kill this man quickly and silently. He reached for his waist and slid a knife from its sheath. The cool leather was comfortable in his grip on more than one level, instilling confidence within him.

Harry sneaked forward before simultaneously kicking the back of the man's knee and dragging him downwards by placing a hand over his mouth. The man only had a split-second to struggle before he was killed by a knife being stabbed into his brain via the soft area behind his ear.

Lowering the body to the ground, Harry briefly inspected the wand before snapping it in half. If he was going to have a wand, he was going to have one suited to him, not some random Egyptian's one.

Turning to the doors behind him, he found them locked. Briefly, he contemplated taking the keys but abruptly decided that he wasn't quite ready to go rummaging through the pockets of a corpse. Instead he waved his hand over the lock, pushing his magic through the tumblers. The door opened with a slight click, and Harry stepped into the house.

He immediately surveyed his surrounding, noting there were no visible threats before relying on his hearing. Voices spoke from downstairs, but the closer noise was that of someone tapping on a keyboard.

Harry moved down the corridor and singled down the noise to a locked door. He bit his lip. The person behind this door was likely his target, though unlocking the door might alert him of his entry. Still, he was confident that the chances of that were low, and that he would still be able to escape afterwards.

Waving a hand over the lock, Harry opened the door. Instantly he was confronted by the sight of a man turning on a computer chair, his eyes widening in horror as he was surprised by the sudden appearance of a child clad in ninja clothes with weapons to match and intense Killing Curse green eyes.

In that moment, all seemed to pause. Harry stared at the man, and the man stared back. Then everything was moving again and the man was reaching for a gun atop his desk, opening his mouth to yell. Harry couldn't let him do either of those things, and attempted to wrap his magic around the man's throat.

Things, however, didn't go to plan. For Harry, delicate magic and killing another person both required tremendous amounts of emotional control. He would've remained calm if not for the fact he was also holding back panic. All of his previous kills hadn't made him see the face of his victim as they died, and when forced to watch so suddenly, a part of Harry's emotional control stopped.

Unfortunately for the man, it was the magic part, and a wave of concussive force smashed into him, hurling him backwards and crashing into his desk. Gaining control over himself, Harry surged forward and jammed his already-bloodied dagger into a gap in the man's ribcage, plunging it into his heart.

The cold, ruthless efficiency of an assassin shoving itself to the front of his mind once again, Harry didn't even take a moment to watch the life leave the man's eyes. Instead he immediately began to analyse his possible methods of escape. The commotion in this room would undoubtedly draw attention to this room, so going out its window was out of the question. People would be coming up the stairs as well, so his best option would be to depart from a window on the opposite side of the house.

His objective firm in his mind, Harry burst into action, turning and running from the room.

,

Apparently he had underestimated the response time of the wizards for one was already at the top of his stairs as Harry burst from the room, an ancient Coptic incantation already forming upon his lips. Whatever spell he had been attempting was cut off before finish as the silver blade of Harry's scimitar whipped from its sheathe and slashed across the man's throat, reducing his words to gargles.

Not allowing any emotion to cloud his judgement, Harry kicked the body back down the stairs, knocking it atop of another man to delay him before beginning to run again.

All stealth thrown to the wind, Harry booted a door open and leaped into the air, curling himself into a protective ball as he collided with a window and flipped towards the ground in a shower of broken glass.

The world span around him for a moment before he landed lightly on his feet, performing a flawless roll before taking off at a sprint again. As Arabic yells sounded from the house behind him, Harry leaped over the wall in a magic-fuelled bound and vanished into the night.

 **A/N: Sorry about taking ages to update, but tell me what you thought.**


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